


Kyōya's New Toy

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dominant Hibari Kyōya, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22754932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: He's been banned from seeking sexual partners elsewhere, so he'll go to the one person hecanask.
Relationships: Hibari Kyouya/Undisclosed
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	Kyōya's New Toy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not entirely sure who the partner is in this; my alpha and beta readers think it's either Shamal or Hayato. Who do _you_ think it is?

“Hn.” 

“Kyōya, what the everloving fuck do I have to do to get laid?”

“Hn.”

“For fuck’s sake!” He glares at the prefect. “About the only thing I haven’t done is strip naked and drape myself over your paperwork. Is that it?”

Kyōya raises an eyebrow at him as if in challenge. Given how aroused he is, he makes a split-second decision and starts to unbutton his shirt; when that doesn’t do the trick, he shrugs his shirt off, laying it over the back of the sofa, and flicks his fly open. He shoves his pants off his hips, and they drag his boxers down with them, leaving him bare and erect, and he steps out of the pile of clothes. He picks them up, and folds them, placing them over the sofa back. (Kyōya was eminently predictable; if he left them scattered, he’d be even less interested.)

“Is that herbivorous display supposed to impress me?”

“It depends on your tastes, Kyōya; I’d rather top, but I’m equally open to getting fucked.” Kyōya finally looks up, and he allows his lips to curve. “Do you need to watch me prepare myself, and for me to assume a submissive position, Kyōya?”

“Hn.” There’s a certain amount of interest in the Cloud’s eyes before they return to his paperwork, and he takes that as a ‘yes, please’. He sighs and crosses to his pants, searching in the pockets for two things he’s been carrying for weeks. He puts the condoms on Kyōya’s desk, and then kneels, his back to the Cloud, and makes a show of preparing himself; he fucks himself open with two slick fingers, exaggerating the motions and noises as much as he dares, trying to figure out just what he needs to do to make the Cloud snap.

“So what else do I need to do, Kyōya? My cock’s hard, my ass open and slick; you told me that you were the only one I was allowed to approach.”

The pen stops, and the Cloud pushes back from the low desk. Heat thrums in his belly. “Do you have no self-control, herbivore?”

“Have you had any reports of me flirting this week?” The Cloud acknowledges his question. “I have a very high sex drive; I’ve fucked my own hand raw. If this is going to work, you’re going to need to put out.”

“Hn.”

“If your lack of sex drive is the problem, I can fix that.”

Kyōya stands, unfolding from the seiza position. He methodically undresses, hanging his clothes up while he continues to kneel in place, ass throbbing, and cock so hard it _hurts_. The Cloud circles around him, equally naked, cock half-hard, and he makes a small disappointed sound. “Hn. I merely have self-control, herbivore. Suck it.”

The Cloud’s hand curves around his jaw, and he opens his mouth, accepting the slow press of Kyōya’s half-hard cock between his lips. He sucks at it gently, waiting for more guidance as to how the teen wanted to use his mouth. He’s almost disappointed when rather than fucking his throat, he keeps the thrusts shallow and easy. He sucks harder, trying to encourage the prefect to move harder and faster, but instead a hand tangles in his hair, holding him still.

“Hn. Attempts to manage me will result in you being left unsated, herbivore.” He whines, but complies, and the prefect resumes moving, slow, easy rocking motions that slide over his lax tongue. They lengthen, and he swallows, his Flames rising to protect the back of his throat and suppress his gag reflex. But Kyōya doesn’t use his throat, content to keep taking advantage of his mouth lazily. “Hn. Good enough; I will spend in your throat, and then you will present your hole for my use. Should you spend prematurely, I will bite you to death.”

The hands in his hair tighten, and Kyōya’s lazy motions speed up, sliding smoothly into his throat and he makes an incoherent pleased sound, clasping his hands behind his back to resist the temptation to stroke himself while his mouth is vigorously and enthusiastically used. Kyōya’s hips snap, the prefect clearly confident that he’s more than willing and definitely capable of taking his abuse. He moans in pleasure, tongue lashing at the underside of Kyōya’s cock as it retreats from his mouth, and he tastes the unmistakeable flavour of the Cloud’s pleasure just as Kyōya shoves himself fully into his throat and holds him there while he cums. The pulses are unmistakeable, and he almost mourns not getting to taste him properly.

“Hn. Not bad.” He sucks, intent on making sure that the prefect is hard enough to ensure penetration will be _relatively_ easy; trying to shove a half-hard cock into a tight asshole is an exercise in masochism. And while he had an occasionally masochistic streak - witness his current position - it wasn’t that particular flavour of masochism, even on his bad days. “Enough. I’m hard; present yourself.”

He shivers; his mouth feels empty, his throat hollowed out, and he shifts slowly, telegraphing his movements, sinking forward until his left arm held his bodyweight and he could contort himself to shove fingers back in his hole and spread it wide. The lube is tacky now and he’s half tempted to pull things to a halt and reapply it, but he hears the rip of foil and the snick of the lube he’d left on the table being open, and he holds perfectly still.

His reward is the blunt, slicked head of a thick cock shoving into his hole before he can shift his fingers; the stretch is brutal and he shrieks in pleasure-pain as it makes it half-way inside his body. “Masochistic Idiot.”

“Only when it gets me laid.” Kyōya snorts and drags his fingers out of his hole before slamming the rest of the way into his body. It hurts in the best sort of way, muscles protesting enforced action, brilliant bubbles of the same vicious pleasure-pain that have him wanting something - anything - sparkling in his veins, consuming him until all he can think about is the cock in his ass.

“How herbivorous of you.” Delicate, strong fingers force him to shift and assume an even more submissive posture. “Though given how eager you are to be treated as a cat in heat, perhaps I should upgrade you from herbivore, ne?”

He laughs, the sound fading into a moan as Kyōya starts to fuck him, hard and vicious, the thin coating of lube on the Cloud’s cock barely enough to keep the motions on the enjoyable side. But he liked sex like this, brutal, hot and hard, sensation sharp enough to make his mind shut up. He sinks into the enforced pleasure, body thoroughly pinned beneath the Cloud. Rides the motions, deep and mean - Kyōya was aiming each and every thrust to _not_ hit his prostate - he whines, fingers clawing at the floor, digging gouges into the concrete floor with frustrated flames as his own orgasm stays just out of his reach, the friction not enough, and he tries to shift enough to get his hands on his own cock, but Kyōya snarls and pins him.

“You will take your pleasure from my cock, or take none at all, herbivore.” He mumbles something, earning himself a tight grip on the back of his neck, one that presses him further into unforgiving concrete. But that angle change causes one of Kyōya’s thrusts to glance off his prostate and he howls and sprays the floor with his cum.

He goes limp, and Kyōya keeps pounding into him, keeps working him through his orgasm, out the other side, until every thrust aches and burns as much as it feels good. He grits his teeth; there’s no way that Kyōya will stop or pull back even if he asks him to without never doing this again and it felt too good to give up another round. He curls his fingers, digging them into the concrete, and Kyōya rewards him by shifting his angle, so that rather than skipping over his sweet spot, every thrust hits the swollen and sensitive gland. He shrieks, the sound high and sharp at the sensation, balls empty, cock soft, and the leading edge of an orgasm far beyond anything he’s achieved with a paid partner breaks over him, consuming him in flaring Flames that leave him shuddering and broken on the floor, still being fucked.

The Cloud over him grinds in agonisingly deep, cock swelling and pulsing, thick spurts of propagating fluid shooting with vicious force against his internal walls. It goes on and on and on, and his head spins as his body tries to figure out what to do with _everything_.

“Hn. Acceptable. Well-trained. Present yourself for my use at 2:15 precisely if you wish this to happen again.”


End file.
